


Luminescence

by TheGreenMeridian



Series: Battles [3]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Depression, Don’t copy to another site, Established Relationship, First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, New Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:02:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22860697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGreenMeridian/pseuds/TheGreenMeridian
Summary: Circumstances align to allow Henry some time with the man he’s come to adore.
Relationships: Henry Collins/Harry D. S. Goodsir
Series: Battles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555234
Comments: 11
Kudos: 63





	Luminescence

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, yes, I know, I’ve got that big Fitzier thing I should be focussing on, but I’m stressed and I needed to write some out-and-out smut rather than anything resembling a plot to calm myself down.
> 
> Please come find me on thegreenmeridian.tumblr.com :D

It was another month before they could be alone together, a month in which Henry felt the acute sting of loneliness far more intensely than before he’d known the joy of Harry’s touch. Many nights he’d spent laying awake in his hammock, listening to the grunts and snores of sleeping men and imagining how it might feel to rest his head on Harry’s chest again. Worst of all were the days he managed to catch Harry’s eye and share a smile for a blessed second. The sight of that small flash of shy affection on Harry’s handsome face would leave him both joyous and miserable, and his skin would positively ache to be touched by Harry’s wonderful, loving hands once more. In his darker moments, he feared they would never be alone again. Sometimes, in the early hours of morning when the ship was at its most silent and the ghost of Billy Orren always seemed to lurk just out of sight, Henry believed the entire encounter had been nothing but a sick conjuring of his imagination; a symptom of the terrible madness that had always lingered at the edge of his mind.

But despite his despair, Fate gifted them an opportunity to be alone. It so happened that a storm sprung up while Sir John and his party, larger than usual due to some effort at ‘inter-ship brotherhood’, were aboard Terror, leaving them unable to return. With relatively few men remaining, it had been simple enough for Henry to make his way to Harry’s quarters unseen and give a small knock on his door, and Harry had opened almost immediately. They stood in awkward silence for a moment or two once the door had closed behind him, before his resolve broke completely and he pulled Harry into a fierce embrace, burying his face into his lovely curls and inhaling a deep lungful of Harry’s scent.

“Christ, how I’ve missed you Harry,” he whispered in a voice thick with emotion. “Please say I can stay, the ship’s half empty and-“

“Stay. Please. We must be quiet but... I would like you here with me while it’s possible.”

Henry’s arms loosened enough for Harry to take a small step back, and he coloured as Harry began scrutinising his face with a look of tender concern behind his glasses.

“You’re not sleeping properly, are you?” Harry asked, gently mapping Henry’s face with his fingertips.

Henry gave a small shake of his head, ashamed of his sickness and afraid of judgement. He knew the exhaustion was visible in the dark rings beneath his eyes, the tightness of his brow, and the increasingly ashen colour of his face. He had seen it himself in the mirror often enough. “I’m sorry, Harry. I had so wanted to be well for you.”

“Be well for yourself, my darling,” Harry replied with a sad smile. “You need not worry about me. I will care for you regardless of how much sleep you manage to get.”

It was a kind sentiment, one he should have expected given what he knew of Harry’s character, and it warmed his heart greatly. With gentle fingers he plucked the glasses from Harry’s nose and carefully folded them and placed them on the desk. Harry was lovely with or without them, but after what had felt like a lifetime apart, he needed to see Harry’s face clearly. Mirroring Harry’s previous explorations, he brushed his fingertips across Harry’s dark eyebrows, along the slight wrinkles of his forehead, over his cheekbones.

“You’ve such a fine nose,” Henry said softly as his finger followed the line of it. “So handsome.”

Harry blushed, and Henry kissed each rosy cheek in turn, sure his own face must have coloured too. Their first encounter had been impulsive with little time for shyness or discomfort, but they’d had a month in which to imagine each other and think over what had already happened, and it had produced an air of tension between them that made Henry feel like a shy young maiden.

“Harry, I... I would like to lay down with you. Feel you in my arms, while I have the chance. Would you let me?” he asked, continuing to caress Harry’s face.

A beautifully shy smile curled the corners of Harry’s lips. “I would like that very much.”

The bunk was small, and laying together chastely was difficult, but with Henry on his back and Harry half on his chest in a mirror to how they had lain on the sick bay floor, they could just about fit, and the blanket covered them nicely enough. Harry’s curls felt luxurious in his fingers as he stroked them absentmindedly and Harry’s fingertips resting at the hollow of his throat calmed him like nothing else. There had been few occasions in his life when Henry had been able to enjoy such closeness with another; his parents had not been especially warm and his choice in sexual partners had not allowed for much in the way of emotional connection. He had, for the most part, grown used to his lot in life. Until Harry. What little they had already shared went far beyond anything he had ever experienced and had made him painfully aware of how sorely he needed such simple touch. To have it once again pulled the tension from his body, even as the lingering awareness of how little time they had to enjoy each other hung in the back of his mind.

“I wish I could sleep here,” said Henry, letting his eyes fall closed. “I would like to know how it would feel to wake beside you.”

“Indeed. I’ve often wanted the same. I don’t wish to presume but perhaps, when we’re back on land...?”

Henry wanted desperately to believe that they would see land again, and real land too. Not the barren arctic landscape on which nothing could survive, but a harbour in which the ships and their crews would be safe and well. The ice was not in their favour and the lateness of their departure had troubled him for some time, and the spectre of Orren beneath them had produced the irrational thought that they were in some way cursed, and Orren had been trying to warn him, to warn them all of some terrible danger that ahead. 

“If we... well, I should like to be with you no matter where we are,” he said carefully. “But our own private rooms with nobody to come looking for us sounds lovely indeed.”

“And... what would you do with me, in such rooms?” Harry asked, propping himself up to look into Henry’s eyes. There was a hint of fire there behind the uncertainty and shyness he found so endearing, and Henry felt one ignite within him in response, making it easier to push aside the fear that he would never share such an experience with Harry.

“I’d lay with you as we are now,” he replied, running his thumb over Harry’s bottom lip. 

Harry’s eyes slid closed as his mouth opened slightly, allowing Henry to better caress his full lower lip and looking utterly sinful. “Would we be dressed as we are?”

“No,” Henry whispered. “We would be bare to each other.”

“You would wish to see me?”

From any other man it would have sounded like fishing for compliments, but Henry knew Harry was not the sort. Withdrawing his thumb, he pulled Harry down into a slow, deep kiss that left little room for doubt over his desires.

“Very much so. You feel perfect to me, Harry. Slim and... and with such soft skin. Soft hair.” He slid a finger under Harry’s cravat and through the gap between buttons, just enough so that he could feel the very top of the patch of hair adoring Harry’s chest. “Like silk, Harry.”

Harry shivered at the brush of Henry’s finger, such a small touch and to nowhere especially intimate, but more than enough to make them both begin to feel the rising tension. Sliding his fingers from Harry’s chest hair and moving his hand in a slow sweep across Harry’s shirt, Henry felt the hard peaks of Harry’s nipples and couldn’t resist the urge to toy with them.

“I always wondered why men had these,” Henry said, beginning to slowly circle one with the tip of his finger. “I suppose you could tell me.”

“I... oh goodness, I can’t think... it’s a much debated topic, though the pre– oh Henry, please.... the prevailing theory is that they’re a vestigial leftover from foetal development.”

The way Harry arched into his touch was exhilarating, and he began to gently tug on Harry’s curls with the hand not presently engaged with his nipple. The new sensation caused Harry’s head to tilt back, providing Henry with the opportunity to mouth at his neck, nipping gently at it and wishing he could leave a mark. Harry whimpered, and as if under some spell, hoisted his leg further over Henry’s waist and began rocking against his hip with obvious arousal. Previous dalliances had never been so slow or sensual, and he had never been able to become truly lost in another’s body as he was now. Either the risk of discovery or the fear that his partner would turn violent had required him to keep a clear mind, and he had certainly never had a lover with whom he felt such an emotional bond. The purpose of previous meetings with men had been purely sexual and thus arousal was taken as a given by both parties. It was a novelty, therefore, to be so thrilled to produce such obvious excitement in another, and he couldn’t help the sense of pride and amazement at being the one to drive Harry so wild. 

Harry’s eyes flew open with a look of desperate panic as Henry’s fingers left his chest, only to close tightly again as Henry’s intent became clear. He cupped Harry through his trousers, providing only small pressure so as not to overstimulate him, and hummed his satisfaction of the feel of it, hot and solid against his palm. 

“Is this ok?“ Henry asked.

Harry pressed against his hand with a soft whimper. “How... oh, how can you ask me such a thing? A month I’ve waited for your touch, and yet you tease me so cruelly.”

Henry gave a small chuckle and provided a little more pressure, and Harry began rocking into his grip. “Not teasing, I swear it. It’s just that I... I want to savour this, Harry. I’ve waited a month for you, too. And I don’t know when we shall get such a chance again. If this is all I shall have of you, if this memory will have to get me through many more nights alone, I want it to be perfect.”

The motion of Harry’s hips ceased, and his eyes opened once more, bestowing upon Henry a look of such adoration that he couldn’t prevent tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Nobody had ever looked at him as Harry did now. He wanted to recoil from it, hide his blushing face behind his hand like a coquettish young woman at her first ball. Instead, he leaned up and caught Harry’s lips in a kiss, working his tongue between them and deepening it, allowing himself to imagine for a moment that Harry would one day wish to use his mouth to pleasure him. With a beautiful whine, Harry began clawing at his arm and pulling at him and Henry followed the desperate touches until he found himself laying atop Harry’s smaller form. The disparity in their sizes was such that he felt afraid to fully rest his weight on Harry’s body, though Harry did not seem to mind. His legs spread to accommodate Henry and his arms pulled Henry closer until Harry was practically crushed beneath him. The kiss continued, Harry showing surprising confidence despite his inexperience, and yet again Henry marvelled at the need he seemed to create in this beautiful man. Harry was so hard against him, making the most wonderful little rolls of his hips as he sought out the feeling of Henry’s own arousal. His breath hitched every time they pressed against each other too, and Henry longed to know what he would sound like were discovery not a danger.

“What do you want, my Harry,” he asked softly. “How can I please you?”

“You promised me something, when we first...”

Even through the haze of arousal, Henry knew what was being offered to him now. The idea filled him with excitement and trepidation in equal measure, and he felt heat on his cheeks as he looked down into the rich warmth of Harry’s eyes.

“You would want that? Truly?”

A look of shame flashed across Harry’s face, unnoticeable were it not for Henry’s own experience with the emotion when it came to such an act. 

“I don’t know why I desire this as much as I do,” Harry said, eyes betraying his fear, “but I do. Very much so. I imagine even among men with our... inclinations, there must be some shame in it.”

“There is, for a lot of men. When I was young, I met a man who wanted to do it to me, and I wanted to let him. When we were finished, he looked at me with such disgust and called me some horrible things. He grew... violent.”

The memory had stayed with him, and came to him every time he gave into his needs and sought relief with another. Yet it had not come with Harry. The moment Harry had reached for him, he’d known he was safe. Even if Harry had not shared his particular sin, he had known then that Harry would not judge him or hurt him for what he was. At the admission of the beating, Harry’s expression changed to one of the same kindness of heart that had first drawn Henry’s attention, and he felt the burden of the memory lessen somewhat. It was something he’d never shared with another, for who would he share it with? 

“You deserve far better than such awful treatment, Henry,” Harry said sadly.

“And so do you. I can’t promise no other man won’t judge you but you’ll have none of that from me.”

For a moment, he feared that Harry would promise his heart. As sorely as he desired it, Harry’s heart could not belong to him. If they ever saw land again, they would go back to their respective worlds. Harry would return to his wealthy family in Edinburgh and have a fine career in medicine, and Henry would let him go, much as it would break his heart. But Harry said nothing, and Henry was thankful for it. Such declarations would only worsen the eventual pain for them both. Instead, Harry threaded his fingers into his hair and pulled him down into another kiss. Their hips began rocking together, Harry’s hardness flush with his own and providing such wonderful stimulation that Henry was almost content to simply rub against each other to completion. Lifting away, he brushed an errant curl from Harry’s forehead and pressed a kiss to the place it had been.

Stretching like a cat beneath him, Harry smiled. “I like having you atop me like this. I rather wish it were possible to... well, I suppose I’ll have to turn over, won’t I?”

“Two men can, like this,” Henry said, blushing. “If... if we can ever undress fully with each other, I’ll show you. If you’d like.”

“I admit, I’ve imagined it. I should like to be able to see your face, when you’re... inside.”

It was difficult to say which of them had turned a darker shade of pink, and Henry felt an almost painful pulse of arousal burn through him. “Oh god... You talk like that, and I... I can’t breathe.”

“I have some oil, in the drawer there. If you want to... that is, if you would like to...” Harry said, a bashful smile on his lips. “I had wanted to be prepared, in case you came to me.”

Henry could have sworn his heart stopped at that. Just looking at Harry’s face after hearing such a thing was making him dizzy and he was thankful he was still able to breathe, albeit shakily. 

“Have you... been? Recently? It’s, well...”

Colouring further, Henry nodded. “I’m not personally familiar with the act of course, but I understand the logistics of it and the... necessities that must be undertaken beforehand.”

“Good. Good, um... I’ll let you just...”

He pulled himself up to sit on his heels, and tried his best not to tremble as Harry manoeuvred onto his front and onto his knees.

“You, uh... can you undo your trousers? And your braces?”

Harry complied, and Henry slowly pulled the trousers down around Harry’s thighs and revealed to himself for the first time the pale skin and pert roundness of Harry’s posterior. A visible shiver went up Harry’s spine as Henry stared at him, open mouthed and trembling. He had known Harry was going to be pleasing to his eye, having felt him through his clothes and found him to be finely shaped, but to finally see for himself those lovely cheeks and the tempting cleft between them was staggering. Gently, he brushed his hand over the swell of Harry’s buttock, feeling the shape of it and moaning softly, mesmerised.

“Harry... Christ, you’re perfect.” he said softly, beginning to squeeze. “Such a lovely arse.”

Another shiver overtook Harry, accompanied by a small moan as he pressed back into Henry’s grip, prompting Henry to quickly retrieve the oil and slick his forefinger.

“Have you done this before?” Henry asked. “By yourself, I mean.”

“No. No, I... I was too afraid, before I found you, and after... well, anything I could do for myself in this respect seemed as though it would be unsatisfying.”

Henry kissed the dimples of Harry’s sacrum, brushing his nose across the downy hair and inhaling the scent of his skin. “You’ll tell me if you need to stop? I’ll not hurt you.”

“I know. I trust you, Henry.”

Henry gently spread Harry’s buttocks and saw clearly for the first time the secret, untouched place that had been the source of such shameful desires. He’d heard of men using their mouths on this place, whispers in the hidden taverns where sodomites gathered, of a depraved act able to bring the most intense pleasure. The concept had never before appealed to him until that moment, and he vowed to himself to find the courage to broach the subject if he should ever have Harry in such a position again.

The first brush of his finger across Harry’s entrance had an immediate effect, with Harry’s knees going out from under him, and only his face falling into the pillow preventing his yelp from alerting the entire ship to the crimes they were committing. Shakily, Harry rose to his knees again, and Henry allowed himself a small grin.

“Good?” he asked, beginning to circle Harry’s entrance. Harry make a strangled sort of noise and nodded against the bed, and Henry’s finger drifted slowly to it’s goal. “Ok, I’ll...”

They both groaned at the first breach. The background hum of arousal that had been present since he’d entered the room suddenly peaked, and Henry felt himself begin to leak heavily into his smallclothes. 

“You’re so tight... Harry, you’re... oh god...”

His voice was strained, full of desire and admiration, and he heard Harry doing his best to stifle another moan.

“Oh... Henry, please, it’s...”

Henry twisted his finger on the next withdrawal, and Harry seemed to forgot how to breath, forcing himself back into Henry’s hand as instinct and need took over. It was astounding how easily he seemed to take to it. For Henry’s first experience with his own fingers, the strangeness of it had taken some time to get used to, but Harry seemed already to be losing himself to the stimulation of previously unfelt pleasure.

“There’s a place, inside, I... I’m not sure what it’s called, but it feels amazing,” Henry began. “It can be a bit overwhelming, might feel like you need to piss at first, but Christ, it’s like nothing else. I want to show you how good it feels. May I?”

“It’s the prostate gland,” Harry murmured, “and I’ve always wondered how it would feel.”

Henry placed a steadying hand on Harry’s stomach, sliding under his shirt to stroke the soft hair covering it. “Just try and relax into it, ok?”

Slowly, carefully, he crooked his finger, seeking that magical little lump. Harry exhaled sharply as Henry began gently rubbing against it, barely moving until a great shudder overtook him and his body began clenching around Henry’s finger.

“Oh... oh goodness, that’s... mmm, please don’t stop,” Harry panted, hips grinding up as if of their own volition. “Henry, I can’t... oh, more, please, I need more.”

Harry struggled to hide the needy whine produced by Henry withdrawing his finger, and was rewarded immediately by receiving a second. With long, slow strokes, Henry began to fuck him, keeping his fingers bent just-so to rub over the right spot and occasionally widening the set of them to further stretch Harry open.

“You’re so good, my Harry,” he whispered. “I wish you could see how lovely you look, like this.”

Harry shuddered and pushed back against the intruding fingers. “It’s so... oh! Oh, it’s so strange...”

“But you enjoy it?”

Harry groaned in the affirmative and clenched around his fingers with a shudder. The urge to take him was becoming unbearable, Henry could hardly breathe for need of simulation. The sight of his fingers disappearing into that eager little hole was driving him wild, and he could feel the wet head of Harry’s handsome prick brush against his arm every time the man’s hips jolted involuntarily.

“My wonderful Harry. I... Lord, I want you so badly. Bringing you pleasure is more than enough, I swear it, but seeing you like this, it’s too much.”

“Please. Please, Henry. Have me,” Harry said, his voice little more than a gasp.

Wasting no time, Henry removed his hand from Harry’s stomach and wrestled his trousers open, shoving them down his thighs with a groan of relief as his swollen prick burst free. He had never needed anything more than he needed to be inside Harry in that moment, to be truly joined to him. Harry moaned his name so prettily as Henry withdrew his fingers, and after quickly slicking his prick he moved closer and guided it between Harry’s buttocks.

“Breathe, Harry. You need to breathe and... and try and relax, ok? Tell me if you want to stop, and I will,” Henry said, voice trembling. “Are you ready?”

Harry took a shuddering breath and seemed to relax slightly, and Henry gave a loving caress to his hip when he saw the man nod. With a push, the broad head of his prick slipped into the searing heat of Harry’s body, prompting a pained whimper into the pillow.

“Breathe,” Henry forced out. “Breathe, Harry. I’ll take care of you.”

Though thick, Henry’s two fingers were still a great deal smaller than his prick and Harry’s body was barely able to accept him. Another push, and Henry slid deeper still, slowly easing into the depths of Harry’s body until he could feel velvet flesh enveloping every inch of him. It had been so long since he’d been with another, longer still since he’d taken this roll, he had forgotten how blissful it felt to be so surrounded by the heat and pressure of another. He could feel Harry’s body clamping down around him, protesting what was surely a painful stretch from the sheer size of him, feel every tremor that went through Harry’s body. Harry reached backwards and Henry took the offered hand immediately and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“Oh... oh Harry, fuck, I can’t... you’re so tight, you feel... oh, tell me you’re alright, please, I need to hear it,” Henry begged in a desperate rasp.

“Move,” Harry gasped. “Move, Henry, please.”

Obligingly, he withdrew until only the head of him remained. The next push forward and the slow sensation of reopening Harry’s body was enough to make him sob from the agonising pleasure of it. His body moved in slow, rolling thrusts, almost leaving Harry completely before easing back into him until he was fully consumed once more. Harry’s hand was limp in his own, but he couldn’t let go. That small connection served as a reminder that it was not some faceless stranger he was fucking but kind and lovely Harry Goodsir, who for reasons he could not fathom wanted this as badly as he did.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered. “Even better than I’d dreamed. Perfect, Harry. Always perfect.”

Harry moaned and his muscles fluttered around Henry’s prick as he was praised, and Henry felt driven to continue.

“You feel so good, I can’t... Lord, I can hardly bear it.”

He had to close his eyes for a moment as Harry rocked back into him, shuddering and gasping and grinding against him like a cat in heat. There was little chance he would last much longer, his felt so agonisingly close, and already he could feel the rising pressure at the base of his prick. He leaned forward to press a kiss to Harry’s back and Harry clenched again.

“Oh... oh Harry, I’m– I can’t– ah!”

Barely managing to hold back his moan, Henry’s pleasure peaked without warning, throbbing through him as he pulsed his release into Harry’s body with disjointed thrusts of his hips. 

“Oh, fuck, I... I’m sorry, I didn’t...” he stammered as embarrassment began to creep in, along with the realisation that Harry had given no indication that finishing in him was acceptable.

Harry groaned, his body shaking, and Henry realised he was frigging himself. Despite the need to collapse onto the bed once more, he pushed Harry’s hand away and took over, marvelling at how slick and hard he was.

“Let me,” he panted. “Please, I want to.”

“You... inside me... oh goodness it felt...” Harry trailed off into a soft moan, twitching around Henry’s half hard length where it still lay within him.

“You’ve a lovely prick,” he groaned, flushing in embarrassment at his bluntness despite the act he was committing. 

Harry let out a choked sob. “Keep talking, please, I... your voice, your words, it’s...”

“You’re beautiful,” he replied. “Beautiful, all of you. I want to... oh fuck, I want to have you bare, I want to see you, touch you... please Harry, I need to feel you finish.”

Harry didn’t respond in words, though he began muffling sobs of pleasure into the pillow as his hand came to join Henry’s on his prick, not guiding him but simply feeling Henry’s movements as if he needed to reassure himself it was real. Several muffled noises that sound like ‘please’ and ‘close’ came from the pillow before Harry turned his head and took a deep breath. His face was red, streaked with tears, though Henry knew they had been caused by pleasure rather than pain.

“Henry, I... oh, I’m... Ah!”

Harry bucked forward into his grip, biting the pillow to hide his cries and spilling copiously into Henry’s hand as he hurriedly moved to catch what he could of Harry’s seed. He could feel each pulse of Harry’s climax around him, almost painful on his oversensitive prick, the sensation enough to cause him to turn his head and bite the shoulder of his jumper. When Henry’s legs began to tremble he eased himself free and watched breathlessly as Harry’s entrance, swollen and gaping, twitched harshly as Harry’s body adjusted to the loss. He could see his own seed beginning to leak from Harry’s body, and as guilty as he felt for having finished inside him without asking, he couldn’t deny that the sight was arousing.

Gingerly, he fished a handkerchief from his pocket, first cleaning Harry’s copious spend from his hand before gently pressing it to Harry’s hole.

“I should have asked if I could... some men don’t like it, but I couldn’t... I’m sorry, Harry, I lost control.” 

“Don’t apologise,” Harry chuckled weakly. “I rather liked it, actually. I admit, the thought had crossed my mind on occasion.”

A choked-back groan was all Henry could offer in response

When the job was done, Harry rolled over and pulled him close, and Henry gratefully rested his head upon his chest as he had the first time they had been together, listening to Harry’s racing heart and feeling the gradual slowing of his breathing. Cleaning themselves was necessary, of course, especially if they wished to keep their clothing free of incriminating evidence, but Henry found himself resenting it nonetheless. It felt impersonal, having to tuck himself away so quickly and a sense of loss began to overtake him. He could never declare his love for Harry openly (and there was no denying it to himself any longer, what he felt was indeed love), nor could they exchange trinkets as a man and his sweetheart might, and the realisation that even their coupling must be made deniable as quickly as possible was a difficult one to accept.

“I can leave soon, just... let me catch my breath,” he said sadly, moving away from Harry on the small bunk to allow him room to pull up his trousers.

“You can stay a few minutes more, surely,” said Harry as he lay down once more. “I had hoped I might hold you a while longer, if you would agree to it.”

Silently, Henry took his place on Harry’s chest and didn’t resist when Harry took his hand and held it against his heart. A sense of finality hit him, and he found himself losing the fight against weeping, though he managed to hold back any obvious sobs even as the tears began to fall. Somehow, Harry noticed, and Henry was pulled closer still as a gentle hand began petting his hair.

“Will you tell me why you weep, Henry?” Harry asked softly.

“It’s hard to put into words. Being with you tonight, I’ve never been happier. But now...”

The unfinished sentence hung in the air, and Harry pressed a kiss to his crown. “Now it’s almost over and we have to redress as though nothing happened.”

“Yes. I thought that knowing I have you would have made me feel less alone, but this past month I’ve felt more alone than ever.”

“I understand. It is more difficult to endure now that I know what it is to touch you, and to speak with you as we are now. I would much rather sleep in your arms, even in this tiny bunk, than spend another night alone.”

Henry drew a shaking breath and closed his eyes, letting the feeling of Harry’s fingers running through his hair soothe him. 

“Do... do the dark thoughts persist?” asked Harry.

“Yes,” he admitted after a moment or two, not wishing to explain further. “Do you sleep, Harry? Before, you said you struggled with it also. Is it still the case?”

“I dream of him, of poor Mr Young. Not always, but... enough.”

“Would you wish to tell me about them? The dreams I mean?” There was obvious hesitation as Harry’s body seemed to tense, but it began to ease when Henry pulled Harry’s hand to his lips and gave it a reassuring kiss. “It helped me, you know. Telling you about Billy. If you would share with me, perhaps it will help you.”

There was another pause before Harry began speaking. “I told you before that he did not pass peacefully. But it was more than that, it was as though he... saw something. He awoke and began screaming, something only he could see... he said ‘he wants us to run’. It was an hallucination, of course, but in the moment...”

A chill seemed to settle in the pit of Henry’s stomach. To hear that Young had made such a warning, and under such strange circumstances too, turned his blood as cold as the ice that was slowly consuming the ships. Unable to provide any words of comfort and feeling in need of some himself, he simply kissed Harry’s hand once more and did his best to level his breathing, lest Harry realise the path his thoughts had taken.

“I wish you would only dream of pleasant things.” His voice held a slight tremor, but he hoped nothing noticeable.

“Thank you, Henry. I would much rather dream of you,” Harry said quietly. “Though I shall perhaps have pleasant dreams tonight.”

—

When he saw Harry the next morning, there was a tightness about his eyes and a stiffness to his gait that was equal parts arousing and mortifying to see, though any guilt at having hurt Harry was tempered when Harry gave a furtive glance around and, when certain there was nobody to see, gave him a bashful grin that was bright enough to guide him through even the darkest polar night.


End file.
